Doubtful Friends and Certain Enemies
by Artemesia
Summary: Sequel to 'Mischief, Lies, and Other Hazards of Parenting,' and 'Thor's Days.' (Highly recommend reading those first!) In which Loki, a modern-day single father and rogue trickster god has to deal with vengeance, revenge, ancient magic, and still pulling off his little girl's birthday party - with help and hindrance from the Avengers.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: After a long break, in which I studied for and passed (!) some truly horrible awful graduate school exams, I'm back. Thank you all for waiting after I left you on a cliffhanger! I hope the payoff will be worth it.** **Thanks, as always, to my amazing betas, Jade and Majoline, for their comments and encouragement during the loooooong break.**

* * *

"Daddy, is Madison coming to my party? Or Ashley? Or Hunter, though it's okay if he doesn't come."

Loki looked up from his food preparation. Once he'd bested foes with his knives and his cunning, now he used them in hopes of getting Kara to eat her vegetables. Carrot and jicama crinkle fries, radish flowers.

Well, if he was reduced to such menial work, then at least their lunches were the envy of the break room and the cafeteria. No sense in doing it poorly. He tucked away their treats into their respective containers: a rather stylish bento for him, and her beloved if slightly battered Captain America lunchbox.

"Madison and Ashley, yes. Hunter, I don't know, because his parents refuse to acknowledge deadlines as meaningful things."

Loki would be entertaining Kara, all eleven of her fellow Daisies, five classmates (four if a certain set of parents would adhere to basic social protocols), Miriam and her brood, and the self-named J Hood Wright Playground Posse - a joke of Stephen's that had considerable staying power.

"There will be tea, cake, dinosaur hats and wings enough for everyone." It gave Loki no small amount of pride that Kara had chosen Alice's Tea Cup for her party, but had insisted everyone come as a dinosaur.

One thing the party would not have was enough Asgardian mead to make its far too many guests tolerable, but there were three bottles of an especially fine, especially strong port that would have to serve as a post-party relaxation measure.

"What about the Avengers?"

Loki restrained from crushing Kara's Captain America thermos as he slipped it and her lunch box into her sparkling blue star-spangled backpack. "They said they would try to come. But they might have to go off and save the world." He rolled his eyes. "We can only hope."

"So they might all come," Kara said.

"If we're only so lucky." Loki tugged Kara into her jacket, then wrestled her puffy-jacket-clad arms into the straps of her backpack. "Do you have your homework?"

"Yes."

"And the first pair of many gloves I'll have to replace?"

"Yessssss."

"Well then. Shall we go?"

"Yeah!"

Loki smiled and leaned down to take her hand. He looked to the apartment, toys strewn across the living room, his mug full of lukewarm darjeeling still on the counter by Kara's bright green T-Rex cup. A matter of days more, and this life would be gone, and he and Kara would be away from Doom's violence, SHIELD's threat, and Asgard's prying eyes. He should be feeling nothing but an impending sense of triumph.

Damn the wiles of dinosaurs and tea, and his little girl's unabashed love for a world with them, for any momentary pang of regret.

* * *

Clint drew his collar up against the wind, a bitter breeze out of the north that rustled through the color-dappled trees below. But he wasn't watching the foliage. He was watching Loki, putting on his little act, and the girl holding his hand, who had no idea how much danger she was in. Or what her so-called father had done.

"Didn't take you for someone who watched the sun rise," said a voice behind him. Clint groaned and turned, finding a bemused Tasha holding an outstretched cup of coffee. "Should have known this was where you were."

"You could have called. Or at least texted," he said, taking the cup with an appreciative grunt. "And I didn't need help." He took a sip, felt at least five degrees warmer. "Okay, I needed the coffee."

Tasha shook her head as she glimpsed down below. Damnit it, why couldn't Loki just cross whatever line Tony was waiting for him to cross. Take himself out of the game, so Clint didn't have to even bother?

"Clint, we could just keep an eye on her, wait for Doom to finally get it right and take him out-"

"And what if he doesn't? We wait for Loki to piss off another supervillain? Hope he screws up enough, again, and takes out who knows how many people with him? That's crap and you know it."

"Tony can't keep this secret forever. We make sure Fury or Hill find out. I just - I don't want you doing whatever you're doing alone," Tasha said. She would follow him to hell and back, but this time he wasn't giving her the choice. "It's still gods and monsters."

"I still remember what it was like, having him in my head. How easy it was, shooting Fury, taking down who knows how many people on the Helicarrier...and you." Clint turned, offering her a smile that had no joy, no mirth, only a guilt that no amount of time would ever erase. Clint would die with that guilt.

So if that guilt ended a little sooner rather than later, Clint could live with it. Or die with it. Whatever.

"I know." Tasha sighed, her gaze fixed on him like Clint was her target, not her lover. "I hear it when you sleep, and trust me, if there's ever a day I can kill that guy I would, except I'd give you the pleasure first. But maybe...maybe we just have to settle for being patient. For being realistic."

"Or we can cheer Doom on for a while," Clint said sardonically, sipping at his coffee. "Loki must have screwed him over something good to be on his shit list."

"And you're surprised how?" Tasha grinned, the breeze blowing through her hair. She leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Don't stay too long," she says as she slowly rose to her feet.

"We have another mission?"

"No."

"Like you're going to stay in bed all morning."

"I might if I had the company." Clint offered her a crooked smile. She snorted, but finally turned and was gone.

Three more days, damn it. Then he gave Doom enough to find Loki and got Kara somewhere safe, and this farce was over. Done.

Clint shuddered in a sudden cold breeze, his collar not nearly thick or high enough to keep the hairs beneath from standing on end. Taking a sip of coffee - damned fitting Nat brought bitter warmth - he saw two crows, turning in slow spirals. What was that supposed to mean? The Romans used to split the sky, and decide if something was worth doing if the birds flew on the right. Clint held out his cup, left of the whirling, cawing shapes, silhouetted against the pale morning light.

There. Easy enough to take care of fate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Holy crap, kids, buckle your seatbelts and get ready for a ride. This chapter is LONG, and it's a doozy. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

**And a million, million, million thanks to Amanda, Jade, and Majoline, who not only beta'd this monstrosity, but did so amazingly. This story would not be the same without you. :)**

* * *

_Gwydion Residence, Washington Heights_

_6:03 a.m_

"When do I get to go to your museum?"

Loki raised a brow as he carefully unwound the twists in Kara's hair, painstakingly set and covered the night before. "Why in the world would you want to go to my work? You have heard me grumble on about how boring it is."

"It wouldn't be boring if you and me were there!"

"That is certainly true." Loki smirked at his daughter's perceptiveness. "Well, perhaps I could talk to your teacher about a tour in a month or so." Not that he or Kara would be on this miserable planet in a month's time - or a week's - but it was harmless to indulge her wish.

He could see Kara's scowl in the mirror. "You don't have to bring my whole class."

"Tell me it isn't that wretch of a girl again," Loki's fingers twitched around a half-unwound strand.

"It is!" Kara squirmed in her miniature fury, and he could see her ball up her tiny fists. "I bet she's gonna say it looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket."

It had not taken Loki long to realize there were few children who looked like his daughter in her class. Nor did it take him long to note how venomous mothers whispered about the unseemliness of her curls, and how their comments were less about the style of her hair than the hue of her skin. It was so foolish, for any human to think themselves above another - for they were all mere mortals anyway. But he would be damned if vapid wenches in Barney's off-season cast-offs (or their offspring) would keep him from making Kara better than any of her kind.

"If she's fool enough to tell you that today, when you look absolutely adorable," he said as he unwound the last twist, pulling her hair back from her forehead with a sparkling silver headband, "What are you going to tell her?"

Kara's little brow scrunched up in thought. "That...she's a big stinky poopyhead!"

He smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss atop her head, her curls brushing against his cheek. Her sharp tongue still needed a whetstone. "Well. That's a start."

* * *

_Metropolitan Museum of Art, South Entrance_

_8:36 a.m._

Ever since he stepped off the M4 and onto the already bustling sidewalk along 5th Avenue, Loki had a growing number of followers as he wound his way to the semi-private employees' entrance.

A flock of birds - black feathers slick in the morning light, black beaks rapping on the ground, black eyes looking past and through him - fluttered around Loki around like a pool of oil.

If Loki had faith in one thing, it was his magic, and he had learned things in his exile, ways to hide from Asgard's all-seeing eyes, whether Heimdall's or the damned ravens, who Loki had always hated, if only because there was nowhere on Asgard - or the Nine Realms, it once seemed, he could escape the Allfather's scorn.

But even Huginn and Muninn couldn't break the magic he'd learned in that unending abyss - if they were even among the silent, scratching, tapping flock at his feet. He would be naught but a shimmer to Odin's far-reaching gaze, and his words would be nothing but the rustle of the wind.

He sneered at his avian companions. "Look all you wish. Peer deep as you can. In a few days you will never find me, save when I come to repay Asgard all the kindness it showed-"

A voice quietly coughed, and Loki could hear the eyebrow being raised in his direction.

"Oh God, another one lost to community theatre." Theresa Corby was a paper conservationist who split her time between the Main Building and the Cloisters, and so they'd shared a few sweaty, muggy rides on the M4 together, given Washington Heights was all but in-between. "That really didn't sound like Ibsen."

Loki turned, his sneer replaced with what he hoped was an embarrassed smile. "A bit more performance art-"

Her thin eyebrows rose even higher as the small, sturdily-built woman rolled her eyes. "Even worse."

Loki chuckled, tilting his head. "Fair enough. A bit of meta-criticism against the Norse pantheon, given how many idiots who suddenly want to venerate the Scandinavian antiquities once someone with a cape and a helmet starts calling himself Thor."

Theresa grinned an expression of slightly malicious glee as she held her messenger bag against the key reader. The door unlocked with a beep and a heavy click, and she pulled it open. "Oh, I so need front-row tickets for that."

* * *

_South Street Seaport, Lower Manhattan_

_9:06 a.m._

Yet another group of oblivious kids ran past him, not one turning around or pausing, even for a second. They might have been small, but there were enough of them, clad in their matching uniforms, to make the pier shake under their stomping. Clint was in sunglasses, a frayed baseball cap, and three days of stubble, so he wasn't exactly looking to be noticed, but every now and then, it would be nice if even a damned kid would remember he was an Avenger, too.

Clint had never been to the South Street Seaport, but he saw why the tourists and school kids would eat it up: the Brooklyn Bridge, sillhouetted against the early morning sky on one side, and the museum's tall ships nestled beneath the silvery skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan on the other.

Steve would get a kick out of the contrast, if he was here. But Steve wasn't here, because he was a decent person. Too decent to do what needed to be done. Clint prayed, or would have prayed if he believed anything or anyone was listening, that none of them, even Natasha, and especially Thor, ever found out what he did. But he was ready to face it if they did. There might be casualties today, and Clint was ready to be one of them.

A familiar head of curls dashed past him. Kara's high-pitched giggles struck him harder than any super weapon could, but damn it, he was the only one doing the right thing for her. He was making the hard call. He was keeping her safe. He could still hear her laughter as he unlocked the phone in his hand, fired off a simple message telling Doom his quarry was in the acquisition wing of the Met - Scandinavian antiquities. No sooner than he sent the message he snapped the phone in half, dropping its remains into a bin.

"Kraa!" A raven hopped out from behind the trash can, tapping its beak against the ground. It was skinny, missing a couple feathers. Clint almost felt bad for the thing. It wasn't a pigeon, so that helped his sympathy.

"Here," he said, fishing a protein bar out of a pocket. Funny, doing the right thing was making his stomach feel like it'd gone a few rounds at Staten Island. "Looks like you need it more."

Clint dropped the unwrapped bar, jammed his hands into his now empty pockets, and walked away. There'd be a signal. Something. Supervillains didn't attack a major museum quietly. And here he'd be, waiting to swoop in, keep Kara safe.

As he walked into the brightening skyline, Clint didn't see the raven watching him, unmoving, as a passel of sparrows picked the peanut butter-flavored offering to pieces.

* * *

_South Street Seaport, Interior_

_9:48 a.m._

The building still smelled old. Kara liked it - the smell of bricks and wood were comfy, like her favorite blanket or a cup of hot chocolate. She even liked the ships - they were all about going places and discovering things, even if the only boat Kara had ever been on was a paddle boat in the park.

Alice and Oscar looked bored, though. Alice's dads had taken her to the museum this summer, and she said she hated it then, and Oscar said planes were faster and cooler, so even though Kara was with her best friends, this was anything but fun.

"I wanna go back and see the lighthouse light," Kara said, dragging her shiny shoes on the slippery floor.

"It's just a stupid light," Oscar said, already almost at the door with Mrs. Lowsley, one of their chaperones, who must have been playing a fun game on her phone.

Kara wished her daddy could have come. He would have been excited. He would have liked the ships. He would have let her go see the light. He would have told awesome stories about pirates and sea monsters and made some of the kids cry (but not her), and after they got home they would both laugh at how easy it was to scare people. And he wouldn't be on his phone all the time.

Mrs. Lowsley sighed. "You can go with Mr. Hamilton's group. I think the rest of us are done." She looked down at Kara, frowning, like she'd done something wrong. "Make sure you tell him your daddy's phone number." Her voice got all muttery, but Kara could still hear her. "I hope Alex has unlimited texts."

Alice and Oscar pouted. "You can't leave us!"

"You can come with me."

Alice looked at her shoes and Oscar shrugged. "We'll eat lunch with you. And maybe the ships outside will be cooler," Oscar said.

Kara grinned. She could definitely get them to play pirates on the ships. "They're gonna be so much cooler. See you later!"

Nobody was in the lighthouse room when Kara ran past it. She knew she should have found Mr. Hamilton, but what if he was bored and on his phone too? So it would be totally okay if she just looked at it herself, right?

The room was full of tiny little rainbows, and Kara didn't know if her daddy would think it was magic, but she did. The colors twinkled and sparkled, and her friends were so silly, because this was the best thing in the museum ever. Even better than maybe playing pirates. The rainbows seemed to dance all around her.

Kara clapped and giggled, as the room turned into one giant rainbow.

* * *

_Metropolitan Museum of Art, Curatorial Offices_

_9:54 a.m._

Loki's hold on the little wolf would have been tight enough to break it, if the little artifact was anything but a powerful, if sullenly inert, thing. There wasn't enough lemongrass tea on Midgard to calm him, following the morning's brush with the ravens and all they represented. He had bombarded Kara's chaperone with texts demanding to know if Kara was alright for the past hour.

Amy Lin, the continued lone voice of sanity among his colleagues, peered up from her desk, brows knit together. "I've got a Xanax if you need one."

Loki set down the little wolf, willing his fingers to strengthen, and for his face to relax from whatever frightening visage it was to a slightly less threatening appearance. "That's quite all right. I am just-" He trailed off, for not only was that how humans around here spoke, but he had little sense of his thoughts besides anger and fury at so many things, at present, beyond his control.

"Stressed? Anxious? A single dad in the most cutthroat place on earth to be a parent?" Amy raised a brow and took a sip out of her slightly chipped Vasa mug. "Please don't tell me you're stressing out about this party for Karen-"

Loki sight and grit his teeth. "Kara. Her name is Kara."

"I know, not good with the whole 'names of people who aren't Early Iron Age Scandinavians' thing." Amy waved her hand at him. "But if you turn into some Prada messenger bag-toting asshole ramming people with a double stroller-"

"I only have the one daughter, and she does know how to walk."

"Whatever. My point is, you seem like a good dad. You don't have to be someone you're not." Amy's expression was so genuine, her simple compliment so heartfelt.

How absolutely foolish and naive these humans were. That Loki was a good father - well, he was far better than Odin. He wondered if that was enough to elevate him into the ranks of the good. But as for being someone he wasn't...

His affable smile hid the heaviness of wearing so many guises, one atop the other. "Well, I will rely on you to slap any designer satchels out of my hand."

"Gladly."

One of the lowly interns, who trudged away only for a few measly college credits, approached their desks with a pitiful excuse for an interrupting cough. "Mr. Gwydion? Reception says you have a visitor. Kinda important?"

Loki stood, slowly, giving the boy a withering glare, even as his hand tightened. The magic pulsed beneath his skin, ready if his guest was anyone but whom he expected - or perhaps if it was.

* * *

_South Street Seaport, Exterior_

_10:02 a.m._

Police. Fire Department. Even the S.H.I.E.L.D. intel frequencies technically above his clearance level.

Nothing on the scanners, except the typical low-level mayhem. Not a goddamned peep from the Met.

His earpiece beeped, the staccato signal he'd assigned to Tasha.

"One hell of a walk," she said, and Clint could just hear her arms fold against her chest.

"You know me. I like the walking."

"To where, Brooklyn?"

Clint looked a bit guiltily at the said bridge in the distance. "Just got a lot to think about. Everything okay?"

"Be nice if you had a little something to talk about, just saying," Tasha answered. "But Tony has an interesting impromptu meeting this morning. Either he's looking to buy out a few wings of the Met to decorate the Tower, or - I don't know. Who knows what he and Loki talk about."

Shit. Clint's hands went slick, and his stomach jammed somewhere in his throat. Shit shit shit shit shit. He opened his mouth but he couldn't make a sound.

"Clint?" Her voice sounded tinny, distant, like she was standing on the balcony, shouting into the wind and the city below. "Clint?"

* * *

_Metropolitan Museum of Art, Back Offices_

_10:03 a.m._

Was it just Tony, or did Loki actually look relieved to see him?

"I like the look." Tony tilted his head at Loki's ensemble: black-washed jeans, a pale-green button down, and a charcoal grey coat with black leather patches at the elbows. "It's GQ in tweed. Though seriously, you can wear colors besides green and black. It's like you're an ambiguously aligned Power Ranger."

"The Green Ranger was something of a chimera, Stark." Because of course Loki would know about dreadful 1990s children's shows. "But if we could dispense with our usual pleasantries, I would appreciate keeping this meeting short. I have a job, a tea shop to call, and, oh yes, a supervillain to defeat because you humans are so miserable at doing it yourselves."

"If I remember correctly, and I do remember correctly, we humans did a pretty spectacular job kicking your ass. Twice. I can't help it if Richards isn't as amazing as I am." Tony snorted, his fingers twirling around a cool, metallic device in his pocket. "Considering I've figured out how to bring Doom down in two weeks and he's been at it for how long?"

Loki's pale eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms across his chest. "And clearly the fact he eliminated a double in Chicago last week means your device works perfectly."

Tony brought the little thing out as he held his hands up. It was deceptive - smooth metal but in combat it barrage of blades beneath would disrupt Doom's armor and whatever additional shielding he had - any magical defenses were up to Loki. "Okay, so not field tested on his armor, but this thing destroyed a few of mine. It'll do its job. And, by the way, it won't do that job on me, but considering I'm the potential father of your child-"

"Potential guardian, Stark. Anyone who would potentially combine their genes with yours..."

"No talking about Pepper that way." Tony bounced the little ball of arc reactor-resistant proof extreme hurtage in his palm. "You and Kara, you're okay?"

"We're both still here, aren't we?"

Tony was going to sprain an eye muscle one day with this guy. "Even when I try to be nice you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're my pain in the ass."

"Such touching words, Stark," Loki's smile was as warm as Steve's love life. "If we can get to the actual matter of this meeting, however."

"I was just surprised you, you know, stooped to actually asking for help. Usually you're all 'blah blah blah all-powerful god blah blah puny mortals blah blah." Tony shrugged as he rolled the device between his fingers. "But if protecting your little bundle of Cap-loving adorableness means fitting you out with an awesome bit of custom Stark tech, I can do it."

Loki grinned. "You may be a clever tinkerer, but I am more powerful than you-"

"Well, I want to hear the all-powerful god say please-"

Tony could practically hear Loki's jaw tighten. "How about I promise not to hurl you through the ceiling if you give that to me."

Tony's hand closed and jammed the thing back in his pocket. "Okay, now you really aren't getting it until you say please."

"I am warning you, Stark-" But whatever smart-ass reply or bit of violence Loki had in mind never happened. A bird - Jesus, the thing was strong - crashed through a window and spiraled for them, black feathers and broken glass in its wake. So maybe Tony ducked faster than the woman at reception, but Loki's hand was quicker, snapping and catching the bird around the neck.

"So now we wandered into a Hitchcock movie." Tony straightened and rubbed at the back of his neck. "That was fun."

Loki didn't answer. One hand was still tight around the bird's obviously broken neck. Something silvery was clutched in the bird's talons, and Loki's other hand untangled it. His jaw was set, pale eyes ablaze, and Tony heard the snap of bones and sinews beneath Loki's fingers

But before he even had the chance to ask, Loki flung the bird to the ground, pulled Tony around the corner, and then everything vanished in a flash of greenish light.

* * *

_South Street Seaport, Exterior_

_10:06 a.m._

"Hey mister."

Oh kid, this was not the time to finally recognize him. Tasha was so not buying his technical difficulty excuse, and how the hell was he going to warn Tony without blowing the entire plan? Doom was taking his sweet time, so maybe Tony would be gone before everything went down?

Shit.

"Hey mister!" The little kid was persistent, Clint gave him that.

"Listen, kid, I don't have time for autographs-"

"Why would I want your autograph?" The kid fixed him with a scowl. "The bird told me to tell you Doom has what he wants. Why's a bird talking to you?"

"But he doesn't even have Loki-" Clint shuddered as he glimpsed the raven behind the boy, cawing raucously. If the bird was Doom's magical pet, and it knew he was here, what else did it know?

Clint bolted down the pier, heart already pounding.

"Hey mister, are you famous or something?"

* * *

_South Street Seaport, Interior_

_10:06 a.m._

Tony felt like he was going to be sick. He wasn't sure how much of that was because of whatever 'beam-me-up' spell Loki had just done on them both, or why he'd done it.

Not that Loki was here. There'd been another flash of light, and then Loki was gone, but it wasn't magic: just him opening to a cramped maintenance closet now only lit by the muted glow of Tony's arc reactor, shining through his shirt. He might not have his armor at the moment, but he still had JARVIS.

"JARVIS," he asked, holding up his wrist and the slender band around it. "Where the hell am I?"

"It seems to be a closet, sir."

"So not in the mood for this right now."

"Understood. It would be a closet at the South Street Seaport." There was a pause. "Several classes from Fieldston Lower appear to be here today."

The roiling in Tony stomach gave way to leaden, immobile knots. "Get me Steve."

"Putting Captain Rodgers through now, sir."

Thank God Steve had finally learned how to use the comm systems. "What's going on, Tony? Did the meeting-"

"Meeting's over. Some birds attacked us and Loki magicked us over to South Street. Kara's here on a field trip. Obviously not liking where this is going." Tony opened the door to a bewildered janitor; Tony smiled and sauntered out of the closet like he came out of them all the time. "Might need you and Captain Hammer here. The whole team if Doom's still here. I'll try and find..."

But there Loki was in front of him as he turned the corner, and there was Kara, bouncing happily at his side, while he railed at a group of dumb-struck parents about finding Kara alone. "Uh, that didn't take long. And he's got your littlest biggest fan, so crisis averted?"

"Good to hear," Steve answered, and Tony could hear the genuine relief in so few words. "Let me know if you'll need us. I'll work on getting Natasha and Clint back to the tower. Rogers out."

"We're leaving, Stark," was all Loki said. Given how white and knock-kneed the chaperones looked, Tony thought they were the lucky ones. "Follow me, and whatever you do, don't touch her."

Okay, the crisis wasn't averted, but Tony knew enough not to scare a bunch of civilians if he didn't have to. Tony trailed after Loki and Kara, who seemed perfectly normal. A little quiet, but she was skipping, and that was a good thing, right?

They passed from the museum onto the sunlit city streets, at least until Loki dragged them into the nearest alleyway. "Now can you explain what's going on? She seems fine to me," Tony said, looking at the little girl, who was rocking back and forth on her feet. "Did your dad do your hair? Cause he's getting decent at it and the headband's a nice tou-"

The headband. It was a strip of silver, sparkling even in the shadows, naggingly familiar. Now Tony saw it, the silver in Kara's hair - and what Loki was clutching in his trembling hand. What the raven had been holding in its claws.

Loki smiled at Kara with a grief that Tony couldn't bear to watch.

Loki leaned down and brushed a hand against Kara's cheek, or would have, if his fingers hadn't gone through her skin, like one of Loki's magic copies. What Tony thought was Kara smiled and dissolved into a shimmering, fading Kara-shaped space. Loki straightened, slowly, and sent the same hand hurling into the wall. The building shook and when Loki withdrew his hand, Tony could see the bloody gouges on his knuckles. Knuckles that were practically white from clutching Kara's - the real Kara's - headband.

For a moment, Tony couldn't say anything. There weren't any words that could make something like this better. "Oh God," he finally managed. "Is she..."

"She's gone, Stark," Loki said, his voice a barely controlled whisper. "Doom has her, and she's gone."


End file.
